


don’t kill me (cus’ I’m just the messenger)

by RJam9



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dark Doctor (Doctor Who), Eldritch, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Episode: Revolution of the Daleks, Tags May Change, eldritch/dark!doctor is the best doctor, it be like that sometimes you know?, these tags are a mess, written before it too so idk how accurate itll be when the episode comes out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23704117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RJam9/pseuds/RJam9
Summary: « The universe is waiting. »My collection of Doctor Who one-shots and drabbles.///Latest: metronome“It keeps ticking, just to remind them of it all.”
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	1. a monster under your skin

**Author's Note:**

> your name's the Doctor. someone is looking for you.
> 
> ***
> 
> to kick this thing off with something very very old I wrote pre-series12. a tiny drabble of eldritch!doctor bc I love the concept. also having fun w/ pronouns!!

your friends will ask you where you're going, where you've been _. do you have a home? a family? a place to go back too?_

no, you say. you leave it at that. it's simpler that way.

~

somewhere, in the corners of your mind, theres voices. there's many, so, so many it's almost hard to keep track of them. you know, really, there can't be a lot. you've only lived so long.

the voices tell you things. they talk to you, they remind you of the past. they are the past, your past selves. they're the rements of their personalities clinging on inside your brain.

you try and shake them off. it doesn't work.

~

_i'm sorry_ , they say, _but you must have a family. everyone has a family._

you did, a long time ago, you say. you leave it at that.

~

deeper, deeper still in the dark expanse of you conscious, there's more voices. they've been there since the beginning, the very beginning when you were still young and naive and didn't understand what they were telling you.

they scream. they yell and claw and push their way to the top of your mind. they tell you to destroy, to kill, to give in and rule the universe like you were alway meant to do.

you think that's why your old selves hang on. to keep your sane.

~

some see you as a god. some as a devil. some see what they think is the real you, a happily bubbly dorky persona that can't control their anger.

only few know the real you. the real real you. the one who welcomes the anger. the one that has to bat off the dark urges. that can bring entire civilization to the ground a matter of moments.

the one who can make satan himself beg on his knees, if you wanted him to.

~

in the beginning, the voices, the dark ones, were louder. now, they have to fight for a place in your mind. you don't know if that makes them stronger or angrier. you don't want to know.

~

_if you're an alien, where's the rest of you species?_ they'll ask. they alway asks. _your kind, your people, your kin?_

oh, somewhere, you say. better now that your gone. you leave it at that.

~

despite contrary belief, you did not create the oncoming storm. the oncoming storm had alway been brewing, since the universe had been created. you just built it up and let it run wild.

~

sometimes you wonder, why you. why were you chosen. why you, of all beings in creation. why were you chosen to bring galaxies to dust at your fingertips, to be able to bring death with a snap of your fingers?

you decide you don't want to know. better off that.

~

_why do you like humans so much?_ your friends will ask. they alway ask questions. questions questions questions. _not like we've done that much._

oh, because you humans are wonderful. you reply. you're better then my species, alway kind and trying your best.

you leave it at that.

~

fire dances in your veins. cosmos twinkle in your eyes. stardust lingers under your nails and the strands of your hair. wind fills your throat, smoke makes up your lungs and nebulas play between your atoms.

you're a being made of pure chaos and madness and flame. you love it.

~

you never give away personal information. don't let it slip you enjoy this, to them. it'll scare them off. you can't have that.

they're around for a reason.

~

(your name's the Doctor. someone is looking for you.)

(that's not my name. my name is ⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️⬛️. who is the Doctor?)

(you, my child. not yet, but the Doctor is you.)

(oh. who is looking for me, then?)

(everyone.)

(who are you?)

(just look around. look at the stars, at the grass, at the water. look all around. that's who i am.)

(why are they looking for me? why are they concerned with someone as small as me?)

(you, my child, are not small. never so. you are so, so big. you just don't know it yet.)

~

"So, Doctor, where off to now?" Their companion asks. It doesn't matter which one, really, they all blurred together after awhile. Just more names, in the end. Only a few stand out.

They grinned. It doesn't matter what they look like, they're all the same person, in the end. "Anywhere."

~


	2. sometimes the colours burn and you keep going

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> despite the colours, they keep going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is kinda of a vent fic?? v weird but it was suppose to be about regeneration but I have no idea if that came through lmao.
> 
> for the record this is NOT my usual writing style. I was trying to be aesthetic. next one will prob be in my usual style but who knows what my brain will decide to write next.

they’re spinning.

it’s not real, not really, but it feels like it. their mind racing so hard it makes daggers drag through their body. their skin so numb it feels like they’ve lost their body somewhere behind them, left it drifting throughout the cosmos.

colours that hurt their ears flash behind their eyelids, all orange and red and a palette of flames. it spills from their ears and their eyes and their fingertips, leaving stars and nebulas and galaxies in its wake.

maybe they won’t ever stop, maybe they’ll keep going till they reach the end of the universe, then maybe they’ll keep going after that. there’s got to be something past the barrier. everything here is so small and insignificant it’s almost laughable.

but nothings really insignificant, is it? such a big word with too many tongues and feelings placed on it.

the colours morph into faces, barley visible in all the hues. soft, warm people, light with laughter and promises and blood. they bleed, and it splatters across the empty space between their hearts. their faces turn blue.

something whines. they find their body and it burns. 

maybe feeling detached would be better in the long run.

their eyes tumble from their sockets, their hair fall from their scalp, their skin starts to fall from their bones but they keep going, the colours keep burning. but their hearts stay the same, tucked softly under the reds and blues.

they feel themself rearrange. pluck the atoms that make their being and change them around as if they were just rocks in the ocean, stars in the sky. it’s not very easy but they don’t have a choice. they bleed red and blue and those colours make purple, the colour across the sky.

something whines. they make a new body and it doesn’t feel right.

it’s too small and too cramped, but they’ll grow into it. make new colours, break the barrier, because that’s what they do. the faces morph and twinkle and if they reach out with their burnt fingertips, maybe they can find them.

they’re not insignificant. they’re not. too many tongues and teeth and the words that don’t sit right in their mouth, so they talk around them. this body is not insignificant, but its made to run, so that’s what they do and they do it well and they can’t stop can’t stop can’t stop —

and. and what —

their mind is blank.

and they’re falling.

and they  _keep going._


	3. metronome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It keeps ticking, just to remind them of it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sup everyone! heres a quick thing before the new years special comes out later today. im in Canada so i havent watched it yet but im gonna try and see if i can get it live. heres the fic anyways.

“Doctor?”

They looked up from their tea. Yaz sat across from them, hands wrapped around her mug and a frown plastered on her face. She seemed worried, and they found it was weird seeing her without Ryan and Graham hovering by her shoulders. The two other humans had headed back to their own place, tired from their last adventure, but Yaz had invited them up for tea. And, well, they’re never going to pass up tea at Yazs.

Hopefully. They’re still in the early stages.

The clock on the wall ticked, ceaselessly. Yaz tapped her nails against the mug. They titled their head at their companion. She was still new, Graham and Ryan too. New meant change. New meant more chances. There was lots of good things about new, but some and things, too.

“Yeah, what is it?” They asked back, smiling. 

The corners of her lips turned up, tentatively. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Go ahead.” They took a sip of their tea. It was warm, but not so much it burned. A tad too bitter, though. Needed more sugar.

She took a deep breath, as if preparing herself for something, and her grip tightened on the mug. It was beige with pink hearts over it, and theirs was an inverse, pink cup with beige hearts. They wondered where she had gotten them from. A souvenir, maybe. “What planet are you from?”

The clock kept ticking. 

One-two-three-four. 

Four seconds wasn’t a long time.

But it must have been too much of a hesitation, though, because Yaz deflated. She was a police officer, she would be able to tell when someone was uncomfortable. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for asking.”

“No it’s - it’s fine.” They said. They took another sip of their tea, still hot. Still needed sugar. “I just haven’t thought about it for a long time.”

“Oh.” Yaz muttered. “Do you not visit it?”

“I do, sometimes.” They admitted. The last time they stepped foot on the gritty red sand was when they had left their confession dial. They didn’t think of it much after that. “I just have ... a complicated relationship with it.”

Yaz nodded and hummed into the rim of her cup. “Well, judging by our adventures, I don’t really see you as the optimal citizen.”

That made them chuckle. “I really wasn’t.”

Yaz just smiled softly like she had just made an inside joke, but didn’t keep talking. The clock kept ticking, a steady beat when the silence lulled. It was in tune with their heartbeats. One-two-three-four. Four seconds wasn’t a long time, but —

“I better be off.” They stood up suddenly, the squeal of the chair against the tile floor grating against their ears and making Yaz jump. “Thank you for the tea.”

“Oh, uh, you’re welcome.” Yaz got up and followed them to the door, trailing behind hesitantly. “I’m guessing we’ll see you Saturday, then? Normal time?”

“Yeah, right on schedule.” They said. “Hopefully.”

They were terrible with being on time. Which is a funny kinda of irony, since their primary mode of transportation is a time machine. Really, they should be better at this. Maybe they need a clock. One that ticks.

///

(and when they shuffled onto Gallifreys surface, the sky clouded with smoke and ground charred, they stumbled to their knees and heard a ticking in their head. it reminded them they were too late.

one-two-three-four.)

///

(and then — and  _ then _ — they’re back, trapped on their ruined home planet with their oldest friend in the universe and their hearts are in sync with his, and can’t he sense it, can’t he  _ feel _ it, if they just reach and find it, play it back to him, and then, and  _ then _ —)

///

Their cell is quiet, just like Yazs place, with not nearly as good tea.

There’s no way to track time inside, seeing there’s no nearby sun to use as a guide, but that doesn’t stop them from trying to mark the seconds passing by, the ticks in tune with their heartbeats. Those are the only things they can hear when they’re alone in their cell, and they are the only things that keep them sane.

One-two-three-four. The quarter note rhythm is a comforting, steadying present in the silence. 

(they can’t help but wonder if is this what it was like for him. was this what he felt? the drumbeat lodged in his head?) 

They mark another line on the wall, dusty chalk stark against the rough stone. It won’t be longer, they don’t think. Their companions aren’t bushy-tailed wide-eyed humans marvelling at the wonders at the universe anymore. They aren’t  _ new _ . They’ve seen the darkest corners, they’ve been hardened — which is always something that happens, but they don’t mean too — and they should be able to free them. And Jack is still flying around, waiting to meet them again. They have mixed feelings about that. But he is stubborn, so when he wants to do something, he’ll do it.

They don’t need to wait long. Soon, soon they don’t have to mark chalk lines on the walls to ignore the voices roaring in their head.

One-two-three-four. Keep listening, keep counting, and soon a new melody will take over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading and please point out any grammar/spelling mistakes you see bc i suck at editing. oh and happy 2021 everyone! :)

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to my one-shot book!! hope you enjoy your stay :)
> 
> title is from “Wow, I’m Not Crazy” by AJR. please point out any grammar/spelling mistakes you see. I appreciate it.
> 
> thanks for reading.


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